Cabin Pressure: Not a leg to stand on
by emily.robbins.313
Summary: Martin lay there. He just lay there. Morphine did a funny thing to your will to move. It made him just want to sit there. He tried to distract himself a little though from what was… missing. Well, plenty was missing... Martin has always had bad luck, but a LORRY! Seriously! MJN cannot know. Three months to get adjusted, and he'd get back to GERTI and flying.
1. There's plenty missing

Martin lay there. He just lay there. Morphine did a funny thing to your will to move. It made him just want to sit there. He tried to distract himself a little though from what was… missing. Well, plenty was missing. Get well soon cards; his family; the crew of MJN; but, most upsetting of all, his leg. His leg was gone.

His van was too old. It didn't have the modern safety features that all vehicles had now-a-days. It crumpled as it was struck by an on-coming lorry that had run a red light. The accident wasn't his fault and he had come off the worse of the two drivers involved. Why was it always him?! The van crumpled and crushed his lower leg, tearing it to chunks and breaking the bones beyond repair; thanks to the lack of calcium in his diet, his bones were brittle anyway. He had no lower leg now.

His thigh was still there, he had his knee in tact (if not covered in sutures and raw); it was his lower leg that was amputated. He'd need a prosthetic, it wasn't like he could go without; a wheelchair would be too obvious. He didn't need their pity. It wasn't like he deserved it anyway; it was a car crash, he wasn't some brave war veteran or something. No, it would be a secret.

He stared at the doorway; he thought he'd heard knocking. His mind was just a bit… pleasantly foggy to properly focus on surroundings. A burly man stood there. "Looks like you got the luxury of a private room, then…" the man stated, attempting to appear light hearted but just looked guilty. It was the idiot lorry driver who'd crashed into him.

"Looks like," was all Martin's drugged mind came up with.

"I'm really sorry, mate," the man apologised, "I was being impatient and stupid and –" he stopped dead. He took a good look at Martin. "Oh God, you're a kid!" he rubbed a bandaged hand over the stubble on his cheek.

"Thirty five is hardly a kid…" Martin rasped.

"I'm really, really sorry! I didn't think there was anything coming and –"

"Will apologies bring my leg back?" Martin asked sourly. It really wasn't a fair remark, but his situation wasn't fair either.

"Your leg?" The man was not aware until his eyes rested on the small mound that was Martin's remaining foot and the empty space next to it.

"It had to be amputated," Martin stated plainly, the drugs in his system numbed him so he wasn't particularly sad. He just missed his leg.

"Oh God," the man choked.

Martin couldn't help but feel a little guilty, but the Morphine certainly took the edge off.

...

**Hey guys! I really do torture my favourite pilot; mind, I always torture the characters I love. **

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	2. Spy

A few weeks after surgery was when Martin got his prosthetic; thank God for that time off! It wasn't an expensive prosthetic, but it was maybe a little better quality than the cheaper ones. It was made of light blue plastic and metal and had a relatively realistic shape. Putting on his jeans, he looked down to see what looked like a pair of perfectly normal legs.

It was a little unusual, the feeling of the prosthetic on his… Well, yeah. It wasn't uncomfortable; quite the opposite actually, with it being padded; but it certainly wasn't usual. He limped down the hospital corridor to the payphone. He was going to call Carolyn and lie to her, now that the Morphine had cleared out of his system. At least he wasn't telling her face-to-face.

The silver coins clattered as they made their way into the phone. He dialled Carolyn's number, taking a deep breath. He needed to make this convincing. He knew his lie inside and out. "Hello?" Came Carolyn's polite-to-paying-customers-but-terrifying-to-all-who-knew-her voice.

"Carolyn, it's Martin."

"Oh if it isn't the miraculous disappearing pilot! Where have you been, you were meant to be here three hours ago!"

"Carolyn, I'm at the hospital."

"…"

"Carolyn?"

"Why are you there? What happened?"

"I fainted while driving my van; don't worry, I'm not hurt, just a few scrapes. They just want to keep me for observation." The skill of lying was to keep close to the truth.

"Why did you faint?" Carolyn sounded… concerned.

"Low blood sugar; the van business has been a little slow recently, I didn't have much left after paying my bills…" Martin wondered when he'd become such a good liar. He almost chuckled at the thought of Douglas trying to lie at that moment and just stuttering incoherently. "I'll be needing another month off, I need to get some more cash, I'm sorry."

"… I understand. What hospital are you –"

Martin hung up. The longer he could keep this up, the better. He knew that, now, Carolyn will tell Arthur and then, maybe, Douglas, and if Carolyn didn't phone Douglas, Arthur would and they'd all pull together to find where Martin was because that was just how MJN worked. They were a (very weird) family.

He limped over to the nurse on the desk. "Anything I can help you with sir?" he asked.

"Yeah, if anyone comes 'round asking for Martin Crieff, can you not let on that I've had my leg amputated. I really don't want them to know. If they ask, I fainted whilst driving my van and you have to keep me in for observation."

"Don't worry sir, due to the confidentiality laws, I'm not allowed to say."

"Thank you." With that, Martin went back to his room for a possible nap. He wasn't going to take off prosthetic, just in case.

…

Carolyn held the phone in her hand, glaring at it. Why had Martin hung up?

"Mum?" Arthur asked, "what's wrong?"

"Martin's in hospital –"

"What?! Why?!"

"He crashed his van because he fainted. He said he needs to take another month off so he can, maybe, make some more money as he can't afford much food."

"Is that why you're angry?"

"God no! What do you take me for, Arthur? I'm annoyed because he didn't tell me which hospital he was staying at."

"Are we going to phone Douglas?"

"I'm doing it now."

The phone rang and was soon picked up. "Carolyn?"

"Hello Douglas. Martin's in hospital –"

"What happened?!"

"He said that he crashed his van after fainting from low blood sugar…"

"Is he alright?"

"He says it's just a few scrapes, they're just keeping him in for observation."

"Where is he being treated?"

"That's the problem, I tried to ask him and he just hung up!"

"I'll be right over!"

"Thank you." Carolyn hung up. "He'll be here soon Arthur, stop worrying."

Arthur only bit his lip.

…

The doorbell echoed through the deafening silence. "Douglas is here!" Arthur yelled as he sprinted for the door; nearly falling over.

Arthur threw open the door. "I'm here," Douglas said gravely.

"Come in!" This wasn't Arthur's usual over-cheery hyperactivity; but the nervous, itching, kind that tried in vain to rid the body of the excess negative energy. It was in these moments that Arthur truly appeared to have ADHD.

"Carolyn?!" Douglas called into the living room.

"Yes, Douglas?"

"I got in contact with a 'friend'. What number was displayed? I'll send him a quick text."

"Hold on…" She grabbed the phone, reading out the number to Douglas who sent it to his 'friend' who, in turn, would perform the may-or-may-not-be-legal activity of tracing the number.

"Who is your friend, Douglas?" Arthur asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Just someone in a MINOR position of the British Government. I helped him with his kid brother once, and he said that he owed me a favour."

"Wow! You know a spy!"

"He isn't a spy, Arthur. He does paperwork mainly, when he isn't watching over the Korean elections," Douglas chuckled a little at the private joke.

Douglas' phone buzzed a little while later, "Ah, here we are; St James' hospital. Come on, let's go."

The three piled into Carolyn's car, and off they went.

…

A knock roused Martin from his nap. Looking down, he checked that the prosthetic was still attached, quickly. It was. "Come in!" he called.

Arthur burst into the room, a ball of pent-up nervous energy. "Hey, Skip! We wanted to come by but you didn't tell us where you were so Douglas called his British Government friend who traced the phone number and I think he's a spy which is really cool and –"

"Arthur, calm down!" Douglas attempted to soothe, but his voice sounded harsher than intended.

"Sorry Douglas…" He mumbled.

"Good Lord, Martin! I thought you'd said that it was only a few scratches…" Douglas certainly sounded concerned and Carolyn almost looked like she debated squeezing Douglas' shoulder for support.

"It isn't that bad…" Martin sighed. Thank God they didn't know about his leg, or lack thereof!

"Well, it could be worse Skip; you could have been in that van accident a few weeks ago, with a huge lorry!" Arthur smiled, attempting to cheer Martin up, having no idea that that accident WAS the accident he was involved in.

"Yeah, I guess that's true…" Martin smiled, hoping it looked real.

The crew stayed for a little while longer before a nurse told them that visiting hours were over and they bid their goodbyes. He could do this. They didn't need to know.


	3. Security checks

Being back at work after a month of physical therapy felt weird. A childish way to describe it of course, but that was exactly how it felt – weird.

Luckily he survived the week where he wasn't allowed to do any strenuous activity thanks to the fact that the van job he was returning from was a large job and the client gave him a rather… sizable tip after noting how thin he looked. All the cash was still intact in his wallet, too. Martin remembered thinking how lucky he was when, maybe a second later; the lorry had smashed into him.

He'd had to re-apply for his driver's licence, but it worked out fine. He also had to inform CAA, but it wasn't like he had to re-apply for his CPL, so that was ok. They hadn't told Carolyn, which was a blessing.

"Are you feeling better Skip?" Arthur asked as a greeting.

"Yes, thank you Arthur. All the stitches were taken out a week ago, so I feel a little less like a rag doll or Frankenstein's Monster," Martin mustered a smile for the oblivious steward. He still had a few scars that probably wouldn't quite heal; one down his lower lip, one across his cheek bone, a long one along his right arm and the scars the came with the…

"Ah, Martin. Glad to have you back." Douglas clapped him on the shoulder, making him stumble. Martin hoped Douglas and Arthur hadn't heard the soft noise his prosthetic made. They looked like they hadn't.

"Welcome back Martin," Carolyn feigned indifference, even if it wasn't true.

"Thank you. I was going insane stuck on the ground, I tell you."

"Right, our client will be here soon; so let's get through security," Carolyn informed. Damn. Martin hadn't thought about the metal detector. How was he going to do this?

"Skip? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Arthur; I'm fine."

"It's just… you're limping a little."

"I'm just still a little sore, Arthur…"

Arthur didn't ask any more questions as they neared the security check-point.

Carolyn, Douglas and Arthur all walked through it with no trouble. Martin did the same, hoping there wasn't enough metal in it to set the machine off; but, of course, there was.

"Sir, can you step aside and deposit any metallic items into the tray," the security guard sighed, clearly thinking Martin was and idiot.

"You three can go ahead, I'll catch up," Martin instructed, noticing the crew were waiting for him.

"Like hell we are, Martin!" Carolyn exclaimed, "Remember the little incident in Boston?"

"In my defence, it's not my fault that some people don't grasp sarcasm!"

"Sir, the tray," the guard sighed, annoyed now. He was a burly man and Martin didn't want any trouble.

"It's fine, I haven't got a weapon or anything," Martin smiled and began walking on again.

"Sir, I can't let you on the plane until you declare all metallic items on your person and have a clear run through the metal detector," the guard looked at him with suspicious eyes.

"I'm the CAPTAIN! I have to be on the aircraft!"

"Sir, you must declare all items –"

"But –"

"Sir, I am arresting you on terrorism –"

"Alright! Alright! Fine!" Martin's cover was blown. This was it. No more secret keeping now.

Martin hitched up the right leg of his uniform trousers up to his knee, revealing the thing he had wanted to keep a secret. The guard, he noted with slight satisfaction but more mortification, was looking shocked and a little sorry for him; but that was nothing compared to the look on Douglas and Carolyn's face. Arthur just looked at the blue plastic confused.

"I thought you said it was only a few scrapes skip? Why do you have a cast? Did they put screws in your leg?" Arthur tilted his head in question. Martin sighed.

"No Arthur. It isn't a cast…" Martin answered, willing his voice not to crack. He was fine, he was dealing with it.

"But –"

Martin decided to just do it before he lost the will to. He undid the Velcro by his knee with a rip and removed the prosthetic smoothly, in a very practised movement. He looked back at Arthur, whose eyes were wide in horror. What had happened to Skip?

"I guess you have questions," Martin muttered darkly, turning away and training his eyes to the floor, "Let's just get through security and onto GERTI."

"I have to examine this…" the guard said quietly.

"Fine," Martin dismissed, "could someone give me a hand? I'm NOT hopping."

Douglas was the one to help Martin through the metal detector. God, Martin could FEEL the pity radiating off Douglas as well as the stares and avoided-stares of the people passing by.

He would have to tell the truth.

…

Douglas had settled into his seat with a cup of tea and Carolyn and Arthur were standing behind him. They were waiting.

"Okay. I lied about the accident. Yes, I was involved in an accident with me van but it was a lot more serious and wasn't caused by me."

"What happened, Martin?" Douglas questioned softly.

"Well… I was coming back from a van job; it was very well paid and the client gave me a very good tip. I was considering what good luck I'd had that day," Douglas and Carolyn groaned, they knew what was coming next. It always happened. Martin would have a bit of good luck and then something spectacularly bad would happen, "That's when a lorry driver decided it was acceptable to run the red light –"

"Wait. Martin, are you telling me that was YOUR van involved in that accident on the news?" Douglas' face fell.

"Yes."

"Oh no! I'm sorry, Skip! I REALLY shouldn't have said that! Um –" Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth.

"It's fine, Arthur; you didn't know," Martin dismissed so he could continue with his explanation, "The van crumpled and crushed my lower leg on impact. Even if the bones had been salvageable, the flesh was too torn and shredded to be saved. They can do miracles in medicine now-a-days, but it was more advisable to… amputate my leg." The last words broke. He felt hot tears stain his cheeks.

"Martin, it's okay," Douglas put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"B-but my leg…" Martin was sobbing now. Why was he sobbing? He'd moved past this, hadn't he?

Douglas decided the hand on Martin's shoulder wasn't enough and pulled him into a hug. Carolyn and Arthur soon followed and they were all locked in a group hug with Martin in the center. Carolyn and Douglas whispered reassurances in his ear while Arthur gripped him tight. Douglas and Carolyn were almost like a mother and father to him and Arthur was like a little brother. They were most certainly a family.


	4. Thank you

Martin and Douglas were pool-side in Cyprus; it was a reasonable hotel with a buffet breakfast that didn't give them food poisoning; Carolyn was shopping in the market five minutes away and Arthur was playing in the pool like he always did. Martin, it seemed, was a lot more comfortable with his status as an amputee; as he was wearing his swimming trunks rather than trousers.

"Suits you, you know," Douglas began, "Colour, I mean."

"Yeah, same as the sky; I thought it was nice. They also had black and neon green, but I preferred this colour. Your aeroplane drawings are really accurate, by the way," Martin complimented.

"Thank you, I thought it was a nice little edition to it," Douglas smiled.

Arthur broke the surface of the water, showering Douglas and martin with water. "Careful, Arthur!" Martin warned.

"Sorry chaps! Who's coming in?" Arthur beamed.

"I will, give me a minute," Martin sat on the ground and removed his prosthetic, "A little help, Douglas?"

"Of course." Douglas helped Martin into the pool and the younger man took off like a shot. "God, Martin you swim like a fish!"

"Thank you," the captain acknowledged.

"Ever thought of competing in the Paralympics?" Douglas joked.

"Ok, Mr Sky-God. Let's see you in here, then!" Martin swam up to Douglas and yanked him in.

"Hey!" Douglas moaned indignantly.

"Skip, you're brilliant!" Arthur laughed.

"He certainly is," Douglas agreed as he ruffled Martin's wet, ginger curls.

"Thank you. For everything."

~The End~

...

**Hey guys! Super quick ending, hope you enjoyed.**

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